Sunlight is Evil
by rabid bunny rabbit1
Summary: Written in response to the WIKTT Revenge challenge. Snape has a sunburn, Hermionie is setting the house elves free against their will and chaos ensues!
1. Sunlight is Evil

--A.N.: In case you didn't read the summary, this was written in response to the Revenge challenge on WIKTT. Special thanks to my Beta for making it readable!--

Sunlight is evil by nature. It burns your skin, it causes cancer and it illuminates every ugly little detail about a person. Hell, it can be used as a weapon as long as you're armed with a magnifying glass! He used that form of torture on thousands of ants when he was a child. Perhaps that was an early indicator of the "profession" (if you could call being a Death eater a profession) he would choose later in life. True, he regretted it now, but as the old cliché says--it seemed like a good idea at the time.  
  
Severus Snape was an evil, crotchety old bastard. There was truly no gentler way of phrasing it. Well, he may not have been truly evil, but he certainly was walking a thin line. This morning, as an insidious finger of sunlight poking him on his very large nose awakened him, he vowed that one of his students would rue the day they were born with the gift of magic. You see, he was particularly ornery today because his aforementioned very large nose was also bright, blazing red with blisters adorning it. This was due to a quidditch match that ran for a bit too long in the searing sunlight. Being the avid sports fan he was he had quickly fallen asleep without first protecting himself with a spell, umbrella or even a hat.   
  
Snape snorted as he quickly pushed the horrible image of himself wearing the floppy sunbonnet Professor Sprout had worn to the match out of his mind. No, he would rather put up with the sunburn than be seen wearing a hat of any kind.  
  
Snape was mumbling obscenities under his breath as he creakily slid out from between his plain white sheets and headed towards his private bathroom. He outright growled as his slightly smelly nightshirt caught on his sore nose as he was pulling the garment over his head. As he stood nude in front of his silent muggle mirror, he glared maliciously at the hideous red proboscis that now adorned his face.   
  
The potion that he needed wasn't brewed yet, and he would have to let the herbs steep for at least twelve hours before he could use them, not to mention it would take him two days afterwards to brew the curative paste from them. So basically, he was stuck with this abomination for at least two days. He grumpily got in the shower and tried not to think about it.  
  
At breakfast, Snape felt like a great green beetle. Minerva kept giving him sidelong glances while Flitwick was outright staring at him. He narrowed his eyes at the annoying little man, inwardly smiling as he saw a shiver run through his tiny frame. Minerva gave him a disapproving look, but he was quite use to seeing those.   
  
With little grace, he crammed the remainder of his dry toast into his mouth and stalked out of the Great Hall. On the way out, he happened to overhear something that made his nose crinkle in disgust. That wretched Granger girl was squealing with joy about something that pertained to house elves loud enough to give a banshee a run for her money.  
  
Stupid bleeding hearts. Anyone who could actually feel badly for those ugly little creatures deserved to be hit with an obliviate charm. Snape sneered at her causing toast crumbs to fall from his lips, but nobody seemed to notice.  
  
He deftly descended the stairs to the dungeon, silently dreading his double potions class with the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years. Not only did he have to put up with that insufferable whelp, Potter, he also had to deal with that damnable Granger girl and her maddening need to prove that she knew everything that was ever written in English, and probably a few other languages as well, knowing her. Snape was so engrossed in his internal dialogue that he didn't even notice the tall figure blocking his door. It actually managed to startle him, though he was loathed to admit it.  
  
"Move."  
  
"Good Mornin', Professor! I was hopin' I'd catch ya before yer first class!" Hagrid, the big flea ridden imbecile was apparently deaf or incredibly stupid. Or brave.  
  
"What do you want?" Snape said with as much venom as he could conjure.  
  
"Well, I've been havin' a problem with two demiguises I've been put in charge of, and I figured you were just the man for the job!" Hagrid was grinning broadly, though his eyes had taken on a rather cautious look. Snape was looking at him with obvious impatience. "Do ya think you could brew me a potion?"  
  
"If you are willing to pay for it, I suppose it could be arranged," Snape said, shifting his position and crossing his arms. _Anything to get you out of here._

"Thank you!" Hagrid's eyes lit up again. "If ya could brew me a love potion, I'd be very grateful." Snape gave him a disparaging glare.  
  
"Are you not aware that love potions are strictly against school rules? I suggest you go elsewhere for assistance, Hagrid. Now if you please, I must prepare for my first class. Move. Now." A very deflated Hagrid shuffled away from his door, apologizing before he disappeared down the hall. With a sour look, Snape entered his room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Snape took a glance at the clock on his cluttered desk, and decided he had just enough time to gather the ingredients he would need for his burn- healing paste. He cursed Madame Pomfrey for not having any in stock, although he was really to blame since he was the one who made it for her in the first place.  
  
Biting his lip, he rummaged through the cupboard for the herbs he would need. Thankfully he had them all. He quickly grabbed the glass jars they were contained in and set them aside on his worktable. He glanced again at the clock and snatched his wand along with the necessary papers from his messy desk and entered the classroom through the door that connected it to his office. With a sigh, he flicked his wand, causing the classroom door to slam open, signalling his students to enter.  
  
They all came through the door with faces that clearly said they would have rather been elsewhere. He could empathize. Even Draco had lost his eager smirk. Since the war had been over, Snape no longer needed to pretend to show favour to the evil little git. He could finally be himself and show that he hated all students equally. It was the best part of his job.   
  
When everyone was standing by their cauldrons, he glared at them all before barging into his lecture. With a quick snap of his wrist, the directions for the potion du jour appeared on the blackboard. After lecturing about the effects of the Papula-Depello Potion, Snape began stalking around the classroom. He was keeping his eyes peeled for the slightest refraction of the rules.   
  
Surprisingly enough, it was Hermione who caught his attention first. She was trying her best to get Longbottom's attention. He was about to begin his potion by adding the nettle juice before the bubotuber pus. With a wicked grin, Snape stalked behind the girl.  
  
"Miss Granger. I wasn't aware that I instructed the class to take partners," he sneered. Much to his delight, she finished telling Longbottom that he was about to cause an explosion before turning to apologize to Snape. "I'm sorry, sir, but he was about to cause an explosion." She was looking at him without a hint of embarrassment. "Detention, Miss Granger. Seven o'clock in my office," he said with a smirk as he watched her face fall. Perhaps this day wasn't going to turn out to be so wretched after all.

--

"I don't see why you are so adamantly against it, Ron!" Hermione gripped her books tightly to her chest and held her head high; a sure sign that she was losing her patience. She was always a bit volatile after double potions, but the detention she had been handed unfairly had made her mood even worse.  
  
"They don't want to be freed! A few have told you that themselves! They find it offensive, and I don't think that you should just assume that it would be best for them," he said plaintively as he trotted to keep up with her. She refused to slow her pace. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron; he didn't understand why Ron insisted on picking at her until she exploded.  
  
"I don't care if you think slavery is socially acceptable, Ron. I don't, and I'm not about to sit idly by and watch it happen! It has to stop, and I'm apparently the only one who cares enough to stop it," she spat as she suddenly twirled 'round, causing Ron to stumble backwards.  
  
"Slavery?" Ron's ears were now bright red. "For God's sake, woman, they're being paid! How could they be slaves if they're being paid?"  
  
"Because they haven't been presented with clothing yet!" she spat.  
  
"And isn't it their master that has to present them with clothes? Since Dumbledore is the headmaster, I would guess that only he could present them with clothing to set them free. So it would seem a little pointless for you to go about handing them clothing." Ron's tone had lightened a bit; apparently even he wasn't in the mood to face Hermione's wrath at the moment.  
  
"Well, my reasoning is this-since I am the Head Girl, an authority figure of this school who was appointed by the Headmaster himself, then I am an extension of him. Therefore, if I present the house elves with clothing, it's just as well." Ron gave her a blank look before answering.  
  
"Do what you must," he said with a resigned sigh.  
  
"Thank you," she nodded her head curtly and walked off in the direction of her next class.  
  
"You really shouldn't bait her like that," Harry said in a low voice. "I know you've noticed how crabby she's been lately. If you really fancy her, I would suggest being a little nicer. You won't have a chance otherwise."  
  
"Yeah...I know," Ron said while avoiding Harry's eyes.

--

Snape was hunched over the cauldron in his private lab; hurriedly trying to get the herbs ground into a fine powder before his next class when he heard the familiar crackle of his fireplace.  
  
"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore's head said in an agreeable tone.  
  
"G'morning, Albus," Snape grumbled without turning around.  
  
"I just had a very interesting conversation with Hagrid, and I thought you would find it quite interesting as well!" Snape rolled his eyes before turning around to face his guest. "Did you know that Hagrid is currently hosting a very rare pair of demiguises for the ministry? Apparently they've put Hagrid in charge of making sure they produce offspring. They obviously want to harvest their hair in order to produce more invisibility cloaks, but I have no idea what for."   
  
Snape resisted the urge to simply ignore him and continue with his potion. Dumbledore seemed to sense his impatience and got right to the point.  
  
"Severus, I know that love potions are normally restricted under school rules, but I have decided to grant you permission to brew one for Hagrid's special circumstance. Many thanks in advance, my boy," the old man said with that insidious happy twinkle in his eye.  
  
"When does he need it by?" Snape prayed that he could put it off for at least a little while.  
  
"Oh, any time tonight would be great," Dumbledore said with a grin. Snape was about to protest, but the old bat disappeared before he could so much as open his mouth.   
  
_Bloody, buggery hell! _Snape looked at the clock and saw that he had three minutes before his next class. He gave his herbs one last grind with the pestle and threw them into his cauldron with an uncharacteristic carelessness. Today was a decidedly wretched day and his students were about to experience the full effects of it. He almost felt sorry for the little bastards.

--

In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was putting the finishing touches on what looked like a note card to Harry and Ron.  
  
"Who are you writing to, Mione?" asked Harry as he flopped down upon a chair across from her.  
  
"Just leaving a note for the house elves. I'm personally asking them to clean up this mess I've made," Hermione said with a subtle grin.  
  
"And why do you feel the need to ask them personally to clean it up?" Ron asked suspiciously before sitting down on the sofa next to Hermione. "Aren't you the one who's always harping about their forced slavery?"  
  
"Well, you see, there is a sock hidden inside this pile of papers. When the elf follows my direct orders, he or she will have to take the sock along with the papers. This way, I will have personally presented him or her with clothes, and they will finally have been set free!" Hermione was beaming with pride at her cleverly constructed trap.  
  
"But don't you remember those hideous little hats you use to hide in the piles of rubbish a few years ago?" Ron was staring incredulously at her. "It didn't work then, and I'm fairly certain it won't work now."  
  
"Ah hah! I wasn't the Head Girl then, and I did not ask them specifically to pick up the rubbish with the hats in them! I'm fairly certain it will work now!" she exclaimed with slightly more ardour than necessary. "And did you actually call my hats 'hideous'? They may have been a bit irregular, but they certainly don't deserve to be called 'hideous'," she said, obviously piqued. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.  
  
With a small exclamation, Hermione quickly stood and grabbed her things. "I'd love to sit and chat, but I'm afraid I have a detention to serve," she said with a scowl.  
  
"Don't let him eat you alive!" Ron called after her with a grimace as he watched her stride from the common room.  
  
"Should we remove the sock?" Harry asked while idly poking through the pile of paper. "Don't you suppose the house elves will be angry if they're set free against their will?"  
  
"I would suppose so, but I wouldn't move it if I were you. Let her set them free and deal with the consequences. Perhaps it'll teach her a lesson," Ron said with a yawn. "I'm going to bed. I'm too tired to care about it."  
  
"Night, Ron." He still didn't feel good about leaving the sock, but just how much trouble could one freed elf cause anyway. _Probably not much, I reckon, _Harry thought to himself before pulling out his DADA textbook and settling in to study.


	2. The Natives are Restless

Hermione cursed herself as she nervously tugged at her hair. She was not going to let him see her this way; it would only make him worse. She resolutely stuck her nose in the air and hurried on towards the dungeons. The bastard was probably planning something horrible, like the time he forced Ron to clean out the dirty bedpans without magic. There was no way she was going to clean up shit without putting up a fight She was going to run, not walk, to see Dumbledore if he expected her to do something that disgusting and damn the consequences.  
  
When she arrived, she bit the inside of her cheek forcefully as she watched her shaking hand reach out to knock on the door. It was partly due to nerves, but it was mostly due to her anger at being given a detention unfairly. I could be studying now.  
  
Snape turned around and snapped, "Enter, Miss Granger," before waving his wand to let down the wards and turning back to the damnable love potion he was putting the finishing touches on. He didn't even look at her as she entered the room.  
  
"Good evening, Professor," she said as she walked towards the opposite end of the table that Snape was brewing two potions on. She put her books down on it and crossed her arms indignantly.  
  
"Your instructions are on the table," he said flatly before turning to look at her with a slight sneer. She picked up a stained piece of parchment and read her instructions twice over. She was actually a bit relieved...and perhaps a bit flattered. It simply stated:  
  
Miss Granger,  
  
You are to grade all of the first years' papers on the many uses of henbane. You are then to grade all of the second years' papers on the pros and cons of the usage of belladonna in sleeping potions. Afterwards, you are to sweep and mop the floor. When you are finished with all three of these tasks, you are free to leave.  
  
She picked up the two folders that had the words 'First Year' and 'Second Year' from the table and went over to sit at his desk. She felt very odd seated in Snape's leather chair, but she quickly banished the thought from her mind. There was a tatty looking black quill sitting in a red inkwell to her right, and she wondered if it was the very same quill that he used to mark all of Ron and Harry's papers. Judging by the state it was in, she guessed that he had been using it for a few years. She pulled her wand from her pocket and laid it on the table before opening the 'First Year' folder. She cleared her throat and pulled out the first piece of parchment.  
  
A small group of house elves were bustling through the Gryffindor common room when they happened upon a large pile of rubbish with a neatly penned note next to it. They thought nothing of it, but simply grabbed the pile of rubbish and went to put it into their bottomless rubbish bag. As soon as they picked it up, however, all three felt a sudden tingle all over their bodies. None of them were sure what to make of it at first, but when one of them looked down at the pile of rubbish they were all holding he realized what had happened. There was a white sock hidden amongst the crumpled papers. He grabbed the sock and gave a high-pitched growl. He looked around at his friends and gritted his teeth. With fury, one of the other elves grabbed the letter and read it aloud.  
  
Dear House Elf,  
  
Please take this rubbish.  
Yours,  
  
Hermione Granger, Head Girl  
  
"What it is, Binky?" asked a fat little house elf with terror in his eyes.  
  
"I supposing we all've been presented with clothing," Binky said slowly. The other two elves gasped. "We're all set free now. Hermy-o-nee Granger has...set us free!"  
  
"What we to do?!"  
  
"Why?! We not good enough for Hermy-o-nee Granger? We be bad to her?"  
  
"I guessing so. This not good. Not good at all," Binky said while stroking the sock absentmindedly. "We need call a meeting now. Find all you work with today and tell them we meet outside by humpy witch statue. Now."  
  
Hermione was appalled by some of the students' complete lack of grammar, not to mention the fact that most of them apparently had no idea what henbane or belladonna was! She sighed crossly and sat back in her chair.  
  
"I'm not surprised in the least." Hermione jumped. She had almost forgotten Snape was in the same room as her.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor?"  
  
"I'm not surprised that my students' essays are so abysmal, Miss Granger. They've been that way all year," he said with a look of disgust at the pile of finished papers on the desk. Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She certainly didn't expect him to talk to her, much less in a halfway personable manner.  
  
"The majority of them aren't so bad, actually," she said in what she hoped was a casual manner, "on the other hand, I've yet to run across a truly stellar one." He snorted and continued with his potion.  
  
Absentmindedly, she studied him for a few seconds. His hair had grown considerably since her fifth year. It was now almost down to his elbows. Although it appeared greasy, she noticed that it wasn't greasy looking at the crown of his head or in the back. It also looked quite fine, not coarse. It must look that way because he hunches over fuming potions all day long, she thought to herself. I wonder if it would kill him to pull it back away from his face? She shook her head as she found herself staring at him. She silently cursed him for having prettier, straighter hair than she did, then tried unsuccessfully to suppress a bout of giggles at the absurdity of being envious of 'The Greasy Git's' hair.  
  
"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?" Snape turned to face her with his eyebrow raised.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor. These essays are quite creative." She hoped she wasn't blushing.  
  
"Indeed," he said with disinterest as he walked away to pluck an empty vial from his cabinet. "If you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. I shall return shortly, and don't think you can shirk your assignments in my absence," he said sternly before grabbing a long, hooded cloak from a hook on the stone wall and exiting the room in a flurry of black fabric.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, deposited the black quill in the inkwell and leaned back in her chair. Not mine, Snape's, she reminded herself. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to suppress the migraine that was threatening to blossom across her head. She sat up and grabbed her wand, grumbling under her breath about Johanna McKirkle's butchering of the English language. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a glass of water and two Ibuprofen tablets. Being raised by muggle parents, she still had a few habits that she just couldn't bring herself to abandon. Taking muggle pills for her migraines was one of those habits. She closed her eyes as she swallowed the pills and drank half of her water.  
  
She briefly wondered if she would be able to get away with pulling out her advanced Alchemy book for a quick revision before he returned. That's silly. I'd only have to stay here longer to complete these damnable tasks, she though crossly. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could go back to her chambers and prepare for her tests. With a sigh, she grabbed Snape's quill and began scratching away at another first year's feckless assignment.  
  
"Hermy-o-nee Granger is having detentions with Professor Snape now," whispered a skinny house elf with a large wart growing over his left eye.  
  
"You sure, Craw?" asked Binky in a serious tone.  
  
"I hear Professor McGonagall telling him off for it in the Teacher's Lounge. It not very pretty," Craw said with a shiver.  
  
"Yes, he scary man! I see him with Hagrid this morning. He refuses to make a love potion for him at first, but I hear Hagrid talk about how Headmaster talked Snape into it for him. That what Snape doing tonight. Along with Hermy-o-nee's detention," said the fat little elf in a rushed voice.  
  
"Love potion?" Binky asked with his eyebrow arched in a very unsettling manner.  
  
"Yes, he's brewing love potion now. Hagrid said he needed it tonight."  
  
Binky had an impish glint in his eyes. "You two want revenge? It was a big injustice what Hermy-o-nee did to us. You want to make her pay for it?" The other two nodded their heads briskly.  
  
Hermione was absentmindedly chewing on the end of Snape's quill as she re- read an excellent essay by a second year girl she had previously thought to be a dimwit. She was so engrossed in the essay that she didn't even notice the door open quietly. Fortunately for her, it wasn't Snape. He would have been quite disgusted at the sight of Hermione gnawing on the end of his favorite quill.  
  
"There be two potions on the table! Which one's love potion?" asked Abner, his fat face quivering with anxiety. "Shhhhhh! You'll get her attention!" Binky whispered angrily before motioning his two companions into a huddle. "Love potion smells like Gardenia flowers. Craw, you the skinniest, so you stand on Abner's shoulders and sniff the potion."  
  
"Where's Snape? What if he comes in and catches us?" asked Abner, his piggy little eyes wide with fear.  
  
"That be where Simsy and Pinky come in. Simsy is to distract him and Pinky is to warn us," Binky said with irritation. "Really, Abner! You don't pay attention too good." Abner's cheeks flushed and he stared at the ground. "Now, everyone ready? Go!"  
  
Abner positioned himself under the nearest cauldron and Binky boosted Craw onto the fat elf's shoulders. The skinny elf put his large nose over the rim of the cauldron and took a huge snort.  
  
Hermione started. Her concentration had just been broken by what sounded like a large snort. She looked around the room from her chair, and she appeared to be alone. How odd...she thought to herself. It must have been the chair; she rationalized before turning back to her work.  
  
Binky let out the breath he had been holding and punched craw hard on the shoulder.  
  
"You almost get us discovered! You supposed to sniff the potion, not snort at it like wild boar!" Craw knitted his eyebrows and muttered a half- hearted apology.  
  
"Did it smell like Gardenia Flower?" Abner asked while wringing his hands nervously.  
  
"No. It smelt like an old man's sweaty toupee," Craw said while wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
  
"Alright. Love potion is in other cauldron. Craw, you get some out with this," Binky said as he handed the warty elf an eyedropper.  
  
"Where you get this?" Craw asked as he studied the odd instrument.  
  
"I found it in Madame Pomfrey's room when cleaning earlier today. Squeeze rubber head and suck some love potion into it." Binky was peeking around the large table leg and craning his neck to watch Hermione as she graded her papers.  
  
Abner waddled under the other cauldron on the table and Craw awkwardly got onto his shoulders. He grabbed the edge of the table for leverage and stuck the end of the eyedropper into the potion, and followed Binky's directions. He crawled off of Abner's broad shoulders and took the eyedropper over to Binky. The pipette was filled with a very pretty liquid that emitted a soft pink glow. Binky snatched it and smelt it. It smelled wonderfully sweet, yet delicate. He grinned to himself as he watched the unsuspecting human girl sitting at the desk, completely oblivious to his plans.  
  
Binky reached into his uniform and pulled out a small handful of light purple dust. The other two elves look at him curiously.  
  
"Where you got that, Binky?" Abner asked with a slight tremor in his voice. "That's Sandman's Dust! You're not allowed to have that!"  
  
"I wasn't when I was working for Hogwarts. I is free now, so laws don't bind me no more," he said with a sour smile. With that, he crept nearer to Hermione and lifted his upturned palm to his mouth. He licked his lips and blew the shimmering purple dust in her direction. It curled towards her face in an elegant, sparkling cloud. It wasn't enough to knock her out for long, so they had to work fast.  
  
Binky ran towards Hermione, and awkwardly crawled up the cracked leather chair to stand on the right armrest. He jumped up onto the desk, rustling a few papers as he did so, and went over to the half full glass of water. He held the small potion-filled pipette over the rim, and squeezed the contents into it. It fizzed slightly, gave off a bright pink light, and then returned to normal. Binky gave a cruel chuckle before jumping down from the desk with a loud thump and scurrying off towards his companions.  
  
"Run! Hermy-o-nee will wake soon! I hope she drinks her water before Snape returns!" Binky was practically squealing with glee as he ran towards the door, closely followed by Craw with Abner bringing up the rear. They exited the room and closed the door with a bang. Hermione knit her brow and slowly came to at the noise.  
  
What the hell just happened? She looked around groggily and saw that nothing was obviously out of place. She shook her head and looked back down at the paper she had been grading. It had been moved up towards the front of the desk, but Hermione didn't think much of it. She supposed she had accidentally moved it when she had fallen asleep. With a groan, she picked up her half empty glass of water, downed the contents and continued marking the papers.  
  
Hermione blinked her eyes. She suddenly felt very odd. Her toes were tingling and her belly felt as if it were filled with tiny bubbles, almost as if she were filled with champagne. It almost...tickled. She shook her head and grunted before resuming her task.  
  
She was in the middle of marking the very last paper when Snape returned. He entered the room and snapped the door shut with an almost mechanical movement. Hermione's head shot up to look at him.  
  
"I see you are still grading papers. Do keep in mind that you must also clean the floor before you leave. More importantly, I might add, I can not leave until you finish," he said with that familiar subtle sneer. He hung up his cloak with a sharp movement, and then turned to look at Hermione. There was something odd about her.  
  
Hermione was startled at first, but as soon as she made eye contact with Snape, her mind seemed to pop inside of her skull. The only thing that she was aware of at all was the fact that Snape was...the most desirable man she had ever laid eyes on! She wasn't aware of the fact that her jaw had become unhinged in a most unflattering manner, and a small string of drool was threatening to drizzle upon the paper she had been marking.  
  
"Miss Granger...?" This was one of the rare moments when Snape became disconcerted. If she were in her right mind, Hermione might have fallen from her chair in a fit of giggles at the sight of his face. His eyes were growing larger by the second.  
  
Hermione could barely form words. Her heart rate increased, her temperature was rising and perspiration was beading upon her brow. The only word she could croak out was a rather indistinguishable, "Severus..."  
  
"Er...are you quite alright? What—"it was then that he noticed the empty glass sitting on his desk. He curled his lip and darted over to snatch it. He stuck his nose in it and sniffed, not unlike Craw had done earlier to the burn healing paste. The glass smelt faintly of...fucker!  
  
"What the hell have you done, you wretched girl! Do you always go about tasting samples of strange potions you find lying about?!"  
  
Hermione still had an unfamiliar look of mental deficiency about her, and she seemed to be gurgling in the back of her throat. Snape was sputtering obscenities at her, and she still wanted him! It was Snape's fatal mistake of leaning too close to her to say something horribly insulting that sealed his fate. With an animalistic growl, Hermione leapt over the desk and attached herself to his neck. Snape let out a high-pitched yelp before he fell backwards, hitting his shoulder against the edge of the wooden table.  
  
He felt hands roaming all over his body, tugging at his robes and tangling in his hair. It was when he felt a few buttons pop open and a hand slither in to make contact with his bare skin that he was shaken from his shock- induced stupor.  
  
"Stop it! This instant! Don't you dare even attempt to—Waugh! NO!" Snape screamed before jumping to his feet and running to the opposite side of the table. Hermione was staring intently at him through heavy lidded eyes. He was scared shitless, to be blunt. His job was at stake here! He could go tell Dumbledore that one of his students had accidentally ingested some of Hagrid's "special circumstances" love potion...but how likely was it that the headmaster would believe him? Hermione was a very intelligent girl, and this kind of behavior was very uncharacteristic. Of course, he could stay with her until the potion wore off, and nobody would be the wiser. But who knows how much she's taken? It could have been a whole bloody glass full for all I know! If that's the case, I'm, perhaps quite literally, screwed!  
  
Snape was roused from his internal dialogue by a low growl. Hermione had her head lowered, and she appeared to be preparing to pounce on him again. Snape shuddered. She was slowly moving around the corner of the table. Snape knit his brow and gritted his teeth as he began moving in the opposite direction. His fingertips were lightly running over the edge of the table as he slowly slithered away from her, never breaking eye contact with his stalker. He was directly in front of one of the cauldrons when she made her move.  
  
With a snarl, Hermione attempted to launch herself over the table, knocking over the cauldron that was on her side, and managing to splash the contents of the other one in Snape's face. A very unsavory smell assaulted her senses. It smelt like her grandfather. She sat on the table and shook her head, as if trying to clear it before her eyes fell upon her prey once again. She was on her knees atop the potion stained table, which put her in a much better position to pounce upon Snape. Especially since his guard was down.  
  
Snape was almost on the verge of tears! His frustration was immediately doubled as he felt tingling warmth spread over his face and down the front of his robes. He brought shaky hands to his face and wiped at the corners of his eyes. The sickly sweet smell of gardenias filled his nostrils, and his stomach twisted in despair. He had just rubbed the potion into his mucous membranes. He was doomed. Bugger me with a broom! My job, my life—that wretched girl! He glared daggers at the beastly little monster straddling his table, and as their eyes met, all of his rational mental functions ceased. 


	3. The Aftermath

Cold, hard stones were pressing upon the back of her head, causing yet another migraine to stab at her without mercy. She groaned, running her tongue over her parched lips as she squirmed about on the uncomfortable floor. She turned her head to her left and cracked open a crusty eye. Her migraine increased tenfold.

_Snape. Naked. No. No, no, no, no, no. This is obviously a nightmare, or I'm suffering a stress-induced psychosis. This is not real._

Hermione sat up with a start, blinking around at her surroundings with dismay. She was so shocked that she hadn't even registered the fact that she was completely naked as well. She stood up and stumbled over to the table and gripped the edge until her fingers were white and shaking. Hermione was staring at the dried potion stain that had covered the table top with a sparkling crust when she saw a tear splatter the surface and realized she was crying. She had absolutely no idea how it had happened, but she was certain that she had not been in full possession of her mental facilities.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her shock that she didn't even hear Snape say her name.

"Miss...Granger?" Snape sat up, his bones cracking as he forced his body to move. He squinted his eyes against the spelled candles in the wall sconces that lined his private lab. His job was most certainly gone, and he had no idea what his future held, but he had an inkling that it might involve Azkaban at worst.

Against the will of his body, he stood, running thin fingers through his hair before twisting the ends of a silky lock between then. It was a nervous habit he had picked up, but he had managed to keep it a private habit so far.

Hermione slowly looked over her shoulder at Snape; she was the picture of vulnerability. Her large, doe eyes were glazed and a small trickle of mascara had run a black line down to the corner of her full lips; bruised lips that he faintly remembered devouring. Her pale, downy skin had small lines from where her body had lain on the irregular flagstones last night, and as he ran his eyes down her body, he noticed there were fingerprints on her hips that had been bruised into her fair skin. At this, he scowled and bit his lip before turning away to gather up their stray clothing that littered the floor. She was pure beauty, and he had marred her for life. No, the bruises would heal, but her innocence could never be recovered.

"Damn him!!" Hermione shook as Snape's booming voice filled the small room. Her hands left the table to cover her breasts as her nudity finally hit her. She bowed her head in shame and let her hair veil her face. She made soft noises as she let the sobs she had been suppressing come.

"Damn you, Albus! Damn you, Hagrid!" He said the words like they were vulgarities before he threw Hermione's clothes before her on the table. She looked at him through her hair, using it as a security blanket. He was stalking around the room, running his hands through his inky hair, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was nude. Either that or he just didn't care. Hermione thought it was more likely the latter.

She reached out for her clothes and plucked through them for her undergarments. She found that her brasiere's clasp had been ripped clear off. She could remember it happening, but it wasn't very clear. It was as if she were remembering something from when she had drunk too much. She broke out in gooseflesh at the memory, and was embarrassed to discover that she was turned on by the thought. She flung the garment into the fireplace with more force than necessary.

"Shit!" Snape glanced at Hermione. Hermione stared back crossly. "What the fuck was that?"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?" Snape was in the middle of buttoning his robes, but let his fingers fall to his sides.

"I said, 'what the fuck was that?'" She picked up her shirt and gave it a vicious shake.

"To what are you referring to?" Snape was clearly uncomfortable with talking to her, but she didn't care.

"EVERYTHING!" she bellowed. "My water, what did you put in it, you conniving bastard?!" She sloppily threw on her shirt and grabbed her skirt, shaking it as if she were trying to kill it.

"Me?! Put something-What?!" Snape's discomfiture had flown out the window. "I did no such thing, you vicious little bitch!" With two strides, he was in front of her, his eyes flashing murder.

"How dare you, you greasy haired pedophile!" she screeched as she stumbled while trying to yank her skirt on. She wobbled and banged her shin against the heavy wooden leg of the table.

"What in God's name makes you think I'd want a go at an ugly little wretch like yourself, you presumptuous—Gah!" Hermione had picked up the nearest thing to her, which happened to be a small but heavy jar of dried chamomile flowers, and chucked it with inspirational force at Snape's forehead. He fell backwards and hit his head with a sickening _swack_ on the stone floor. Hermione gave a small squeak and covered her mouth with both her hands. She had managed to screw and murder the man in less than twenty-four hours. She was just wondering if Azkaban allowed their prisoners books when she heard a strangled groan from the floor. Looking down, she saw Snape slowly raising up on his elbows, his eyes squinched shut against the throbbing pain between his eyebrows.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have said that," he said between clenched teeth.

"No, it was quite uncalled for," she said in a calmer voice with only a hint of anger.

"Look, why don't we try a different approach, Miss Granger. Tell me what you did while I was gone. Perhaps we can figure out what the hell happened here," he said, using the table leg for leverage to pull himself up to a standing position.

"First tell me why you were brewing a love potion, and stop calling me 'Miss Granger'. I think it's just a bit too late for formalities." She pulled on her panties while looking him square in the eye.

"Hagrid has two bloody Demiguises from the Ministry, and he had to make sure they mated. Unfortunately they weren't very fond of each other, so he asked me to brew him a potion. I didn't want to, but Dumbledore made me," he grumbled with a sour look.

"So that's where you went last night."

"Obviously," he said with a sneer. "Now tell me everything that happened when I was gone," he said as he turned and walked towards his desk.

"Well, the first thing I did when you were gone was summon a glass of water and two Ibuprofen tablets." Snape pursed his lips and gave her a reproachful look as he settled into his chair, but let her continue. "I drank half of the water with the tablets, and continued with my work. Soon after that, I apparently fell asleep. When I woke up, I drank the rest of my water and it was as if my mind left me. That was only a few seconds before you entered the room." Hermione lifted herself to sit cross-legged on the edge of the table, facing Snape.

"Hm. Obviously someone spiked your water while you were sleeping on the job," Snape said dryly. He leaned over and folded his arms on his desk. His red inkwell had been tipped over during last night's...activities, and his eyes were tracing the outline the dried stain made on the leather surface of his desk. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he snapped up, yanking his lower drawer open for his spare wand. He muttered a spell under his breath, and a small cloud of what looked like sparkling dust levitated from the desktop. He scowled and gritted his teeth as he rummaged around with one hand in a separate desk drawer for an empty vial, never taking his eyes off the small cloud of dust. He held up the vial and directed the mysterious substance into it before putting his wand down and grabbing a stopper from the drawer.

"What is that?" Hermione asked with wide eyes.

"It's appears to be Sandman's Dust. Simply blow it in the direction of your desired subject, and it puts them out like a light. It only works for small periods of time, however. So, while you were sleeping--"

"That's when whoever it was put the love potion into my water!" Hermione exclaimed crossly. Snape only snorted.

"I am awed and inspired by your talent for pointing out the obvious, my dear," he said with a mock sweet voice. Hermione glared at him. Snape ignored it. "So, tell me, who are your enemies?" Snape put the vial down on his desk and folded his arms in front of him once again.

"Enemies? I don't believe I have any." Yet again, another snort from Snape, followed by another glare from Hermione.

"My dear girl, everyone has an enemy or two. Okay, who have you angered in the past...oh...forty-eight hours?" Snape sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, waiting for her response.

"Nobody, to my knowledge," she said with a look of utter confusion. "I don't believe I've angered anyone."

"Okay, then think of everything you've done in the recent past that someone may have taken the wrong way, or someone would be jealous of," he said, waving his hand lazily, eyes still studying the ceiling.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, really...just...well, there was that one thing, but I'm sure that couldn't be the reason." Snape's head shot up.

"Beg your pardon? Please elucidate," he said with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, I'm fairly certain that it wouldn't offend them, no matter what Ron says—"

"Please, cut to the point, Hermione," his voice was starting to sound strained.

"Oh...it's just that last night I _may_ have freed a house elf...or two, possibly. No telling, really." Snape's eyes went wide, and his eyebrow was beginning to twitch slightly of it's own accord.

"You what?" Hermione knit her brow and blushed.

"Honestly, it's little more than forced slavery, Professor! I was only doing what I thought was best for them! I shan't sit idly by while these creatures are forced into submission," she said, sticking her pointy little nose in the air with indignation. Snape was reminded of a muggle book he read once as a child that centered around a character named Mary Poppins. He shook his head to clear it of the random thought.

"Hermione Granger, have you absolutely lost your mind?"

"I beg your pardon, Severus Snape? I can assure you that I have most certainly not lost my mind," she said in a voice that was rapidly rising in pitch and volume. Snape rolled his eyes and pinched the brow of his nose.

"Miss Granger, imagine that you had a job that you absolutely adored. Now, imagine that you were exceptionally good at this aforementioned job. Can you do that for me?" He looked up and saw Hermione reluctantly nodding. "Now, imagine that your employer just out of the blue fired you."

"But I was setting them _free_, not _firing_ them!" She said in an exasperated voice.

"Okay, suppose that when you confront your boss, he tells you that he's not firing you, he's simply setting you free to do whatever you wish with your copious amount of new-found free time. How would you feel?" he said in a rushed voice.

"Well, I would be quite cross," she said with impatience, "but I fail to see the point of this. That scenario is nothing like the house elves' dilemma."

"Au contraire, Miss Granger, they are almost identical. The only difference is that you would be doing the job mostly because you need the money and it makes you feel that you're accomplishing something, while the house elf is doing his job solely because he feels that he's accomplishing something in his life." Hermione's glare had lessened a fraction in severity at this explanation.

"What about Dobby? He hated being a servant," she said in a challenging tone. Snape rolled his eyes and contorted his face as if he were in pain.

"Wouldn't you if you had to serve the Malfoys for almost your whole life? He was traumatized, for god's sake," he groaned. Hermione's face went blank. _Thank God, she's finally gotten it through that thick head of hers!_

"So, you're telling me that the house elves I freed last night came in to my detention, assaulted me with Sandman's Dust and proceeded to put your love potion into my water." He nodded his head wearily before slumping back into his chair with an exasperated sigh. "How can you prove it?"

"Easily," he snapped before rising from his chair and darting over to the fireplace. He grabbed Hermione's brassiere and tossed it out of sight with a look of disgust and picked up a handful of floo powder from a box on the mantle. "Dumbledore's Office," he growled as he tossed the powder, causing green flames to flare. He quickly got to his knees and stuck his head through. Perhaps there was a chance his life wasn't destroyed.


End file.
